Snowflakes and Cinnamon Stcks
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Twas the night before Christmas, and Scully was mad; the robbers were stirring, invading her pad. The boys were greeting Mulder with care, in hopes that eggnog would keep his butt there. M/S UST. Scully family and humor also. FINISHED.
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, that summary was harder to write than you'd think, but it was the only that I liked. Enjoy the story and happy holidays.  
_

* * *

December 24, 1999

5:15 p.m.  
Georgetown

Scully pushed her door shut with a loud groan, shifting the bags in her hands so the mountain didn't come tumbling down. There was nothing quite like leaving Christmas shopping until the last minute. Work had been extraordinarily busy the last couple months, and it wasn't until she examined a calendar last night that she realized she'd only been in town two weekends since before Halloween. And, she'd worked one of those.

Once in her living room, she allowed the mountain to topple of it's own accord. Of course, it didn't. For the first time all day the bags seemed to have no intention of leaving her arms. Frustrated and tired, Scully all but threw them to the ground, and stomped into her bedroom.

She chose pajamas. If Mulder called, all he was getting out of her was a stint in her one-person battalion of gift wrappers. And, he'd seen her in her pajamas plenty of times. She didn't care. Covered in button-down purple satin, Scully padded back to her living room in her socks and surveyed her mess. Then diverted to the kitchen to grab supplies: tape, scissors, tissue paper, and a roll of blue and silver snowflake paper. A bag of cheap bows was somewhere in her former mountain.

The doorbell stopped her as she was headed for the living room. Damn it, Mulder! Backtracking a few steps, she yanked the door open without looking through the peephole.

Shit. Not Mulder.

Two figures stood at the door. In ski masks.

In took her only seconds to process the sight, and remember that her gun was safely locked away in the bedroom. Scully settled for pushing the door closed, leaning her whole body weight into it. One of the masked figures got in the way, and forced it back at her, knocking her to the ground. Not for the first time in her life, Scully cursed her petite size.

She grabbed the scissors from the supplies on the ground and scrambled up from the ground as the door shut, her pulse racing through her head manically. The figures stood before her, one locking the door behind him. She held the scissors out at them like it was a knife, the rapid beat against her brain reminding her that she wasn't prepared for a standoff.

"If you drop those scissors, we won't have to hurt you." The first man told her.

"I could just start screaming."

He snorted and glanced at his partner, they both looked at her simultaneously, and guns appeared in their hands. 22s were her guess, but plenty big enough to do the job. Her breathing grew faster, more shallow, like a frightened animal.

"What do you want?" She asked, still holding the scissors out.

"To have ourselves a merry little Christmas. Now, drop the scissors, sweetheart." He gestured with his gun.

Scully complied with a swallow and a sigh. This was not going to end well. They might beat her. Or rape her. Or...

She might die tonight.

* * *

5:30 p.m.  
Alexandria

Mulder sighed, bored almost to the point of lapsing into a coma. He'd channel-surfed most of the day, barring the two times he'd gone running. He figured a third run might be pushing it, he wasn't twenty anymore. At the moment he was deciding between the few channels that weren't playing Christmas movies. If he saw 'It's a Wonderful Life' one more time, he was going to jam a picture frame down Jimmy Stewart's throat. A person could only handle so much 'feel good' entertainment before going ballistic on the world.

He desperately wanted to go see Scully, or at least call her. He was barely able to contain his desire to pick up the phone, and beg her to entertain him. But, he'd promised himself that he was going to leave her alone this year. No ghost-busting. No mutant-busting. No weird beastie-busting. Not even alien-busting. Mulder was going to let her enjoy her holiday, especially with how busy they'd been lately. She could use the R&R, and time with her family. That was his Christmas gift to her this year, peace and quiet over the holidays.

He would just have to find ways to entertain himself. Of course, there was always the Gunmen. His lips twitched into a half-grin at that thought, and he grabbed the phone.

"Lone Gunmen," A nasally voice answered.

"Hey Langely, you boys have any holiday plans yet?"

"Frohike's mixing his eggnog as we speak. And Byers, the sap, snagged us a copy of some Christmas hauntings VHS set. According to him, it's moving and spooky. Oh sorry, that's you isn't it?" He chuckled into the phone.

"Ha ha. That doesn't seem much more lively than my evening."

Langely was silent a moment. "Mulder man, we can't help you with anything today or tomorrow."

"Huh?" Now he was confused. The guys were usually very enthusiastic to help, and never shot him down before he even asked.

"We promised Scully. That's our Christmas present to her. You're grounded man."

Oh, he thought. But, why?

Langely confused his puzzled silence for angry silence. "Don't be pissed at her, she just doesn't want you going off without back-up. It scares the hell out of her when you disappear."

So that's what it was about. Mulder chuckled. "I know that. I was actually planning on being a good boy all by myself."

"Really?"

He rolled his eyes at his friend's surprise. "Part of _my _Christmas gift to her, a nice quiet holiday."

"Cool. So, you coming over?"

"Sure, tell Frohike to make extra eggnog."

Langely confirmed plans, and said goodbye. Mulder looked around his apartment. He should bring the guys something, but he hadn't bought anything, they weren't exactly the gift exchanging type. Then he remembered the bottle under the sink.

His father gave him a bottle of scotch for Christmas five years ago. It was fifteen year-old scotch then, now it was twenty. Oh well, it was unopened, and the older the better with scotch. He grabbed the bottle and breezed out the door.

* * *

6:00 p.m.  
Georgetown

_"__It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas; _  
_Soon the bells will start, _  
_And the thing that will make them ring is the carol that you sing _  
_Right within your heart."_

Scully could smell her hair burning. It made her stomach roll violently.

"Man, would you stop fucking with her, and help me?" Leo hissed at Lugg. He'd flipped on the stereo to Christmas music and cranked it up loud enough to cover some of the searching, but not so much that it would piss off the neighbors.

Leo, Scully had dubbed him, because he possessed the high-pitched, young quality voice that she'd only ever heard in baby-faced boys like Leonardo DiCaprio. She'd already developed profiles on her captors. Both young, with the smaller, slighter frames of men still in their twenties, and working class, or maybe just dirt poor. Besides the fact that they were robbing her, their coats were heavily worn, their boots were cracked, and their dark blue jeans (they were dressed alike in dark clothing from head to toe) were verging on threadbare. This she'd taken in before they blindfolded her with a piece of her own lingerie.

At least until they realized the silky material wouldn't stay put, and switched to a scarf from her closet. It was just as well, the delicate lace trim on the camisole had irritated her eyes.

"Man, I'm just having a little fun," Lugg insisted, extinguishing the piece of her hair that he'd set on fire.

Lugg had been so named, for no other reason than he was a moron. Leo was the brains of the operation, Lugg was just the buddy he'd dragged along. Lugg also seemed to be something of a budding sadist. Scully tried very hard not to flash to photos of women who'd been tortured and violated beyond belief, their deaths the kindest thing their killers had done to them.

"Have it later. We find everything valuable now, and have the rest of the night to enjoy her hospitality. Right, Dana?" His voice carried the leer she didn't need to see.

Scully didn't bother trying to respond through the gag shoved down her throat. They had found a use for that camisole by jamming it into her mouth, and holding it with a dish towel tied around her head. Her ankles were bound to the front legs of one of her dining room chairs with twine from her kitchen, and her wrists were bound behind her with the same. She could already feel the rope burn starting.

"Yeah, yeah," Lugg mumbled to Leo, before focusing back on Scully. "I'll be back, honey."

She heard his footsteps lead away to the kitchen. She jumped when he slammed a cabinet, probably looking for a jar of vacation funds, or wad of money hidden in some secret space. She had neither. The Bureau didn't pay well enough for that.

She'd thought when they found her ID that they'd leave, frightened of the consequences. Leo had been pissed, railing at his friend that he should have figured that out when he cased the place. His frustration had been quickly tempered by the discovery of her gun, as it would sell for a good price.

Scully listened to them open drawers, rifle through cabinets, and generally make a mess of her house. Every loud noise made her jump, unsure where it was, if it was Lugg screwing with her again. She tried to swallow, but her throat was already dry from the gag. A chill of fear swept through her. She was completely at their mercy.

Rather than panic, Scully settled for praying. For God to help her. For a mother's almost-psychic intuition to strike. For Mulder to come to drag her away for Christmas Eve ghost-busting. She closed her eyes beneath the blindfold, and watched their faces swim across her imagination.

* * *

_This is my first chaptered XF fic in several years, so let me how I did. :) Also, I'm not really into torture, but as a warning, this one is going to get pretty gritty in future chapters. I've challenged myself to write a fic for each of the big holidays (American), and I didn't want to do a typical Christmas story. I kind of did that for Thanksgiving. _

_Thank you for reading, and Happy Holidays everyone!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, it's been busy and will continue to be busy, this is the only update until at least Monday, which yes, is after Christmas. But, I dug up another Christmas story that I wrote months ago, forgot about, and have posted it, so forgive me?_

_I do not own anything, the show or the lyrics.  
_

_Thanks for reading! And, happy and safe holidays to everyone!_

* * *

7:00 pm

Lone Gunmen's Headquarters

"Even I think that's bullshit," Mulder declared, nodding toward the footage on the screen of a 'real haunting'.

"Don't be so quick to judge, Mulder," Frohike insisted. "Look at the quality of the video, it's so lousy you can't edit well over that."

"Wrong Fro!" Langly chucked a wadded up napkin at him. "Check out the fuzzy white thing in the upper left corner."

"What thing?" Mulder squinted at the screen.

"Right there." Langly got up, and put his finger right beside the image.

"Yeah, what of it?" The shortest, gnome-like gunmen crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's string someone tried to edit out. The crappyness of the film almost made it blend in, but you can still see it."

"Told you. Bullshit." Mulder chuckled and drained his second glass of eggnog.

"The pheasant is finally done." Byers appeared from the kitchen, looking exhausted. He'd spent all day trying to figure out how to cook pheasant, they're special Christmas dinner. He'd started on Frohike's eggnog at five, so whether dinner was edible or not was anyone's guess.

His two partners-in-crime obediently rolled off their perches on the couch and easy chair, and walked not-entirely straight to their small dining table. Mulder remained seated, staring blankly at the TV screen.

"Come on, Mulder. You need to eat, or you'll be puking up all that eggnog."

"You're lucky we're all already drunk Byers," Mulder told him, pulling himself up from the couch. "What possessed you to cook pheasant, anyway?"

He shrugged. "It's the holidays, you're supposed to eat good food."

"Pheasant strikes you as good food?"

"I could feed you cat food if you'd prefer."

Mulder shot him a confused look. "Why do you have cat food?"

The sound of a tiny tingling bell hit their ears, as they met Frohike and Langly by the table. Mulder followed the sound to a fuzzy, black creature stretching, and walking out of round, plush cathouse. It was a tiny little thing, and seemed almost to prance as it ran toward the table.

"That's why." Byers bent down to pet the creature, though he seemed less than impressed with it.

"You got a cat?"

"No, Frohike got a cat," Langley made a point to say, shooting his short friend a look.

"She was a stray, and would have died if I hadn't taken her in," he shot back.

"So let her die," Langly insisted.

"Shut-up Hippie, you love her and you know it!"

"Do not!"

Mulder grinned, and clasped his hands together. "Ah, now this is what Christmas is all about, holiday family brawls."

"She's been a bit of a point of contention for us," Byers explained calmly.

"Does she have a name?"

"Lee."

Mulder looked at among his friends for a moment, trying to determine the origin of the name. Then it hit him, and his eyebrows rose as his grin grew. "Lee, as in Lee Harvey Oswald?"

Frohike gave Byers light smack. "Told you people would get it."

"Mulder doesn't count, he's practically one of us."

"Well, you boys won't lose your reputation for cooky anytime soon." He chuckled.

"This coming from a man nicknamed, Spooky?" Frohike pointed out.

"We actually considered calling her that," Langly said.

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't get to call her LeeLee."

"I do not!"

* * *

7:30 p.m.

Georgetown

"Have a holly, jolly Christmas  
It's the best time of the year…"

He chewed like a retarded cow. But, he wasn't touching her, for that Scully would gladly endure the wet slapping of his jaw. Obviously, this was Lugg. Leo was admiring the gold and diamond watch that had been a med school graduation gift from her parents. She hardly wore it, too expensive, especially in her line of work. Too often, they ended up wearing unpleasant or bizarre substances.

She could hear his more delicate bites as he enjoyed the left over pasta in her fridge. A delicate, but delicious pesto dish from the new restaurant on her block that Mulder had insisted on trying. Apparently even he tired of pizza and Chinese. Lugg had gone for the cold cuts and bread, and part of her was relieved to be blindfolded, so she wouldn't have to see him eat.

Scully wasn't sure how long she'd been tied up, but it felt like hours, very long hours. Her arms were starting to go numb, and every millimeter she moved brushed them against the twine, and ignited a fierce burn in her already red wrists. Her ankles weren't as bad; she still had feeling, and it was easier to keep them still. She was scared though. It was easy to distance herself when she critiqued their disgusting eating habits, but they'd only eat for so long. Soon they'd be done, and that was the moment she feared.

It was only minutes later that Lugg released a loud, almost wet-sounding belch, and chuckled. She heard him shift, and the rustling of papers and plastic bags, followed by ripping plastic wrap, and the clinking of a metal tin. Then there was another round of lip smacking and wet, almost squishy sounds coming from his mouth.

He'd found the tin of expensive chocolates she'd gotten for her family dinner tomorrow. Chocolates, pie and wine, that's what she'd planned on bringing to her mother's house tomorrow, since she had no time to cook. The amateur robbers already started on one of the bottles of wine, and now Lugg was devouring the chocolates. Not that she was all that optimistic about getting to her mother's tomorrow, but anger was better than fear. Anger allowed her to still feel strong, even when she was screaming in her head.

"It doesn't show signs of stopping  
And I've bought some corn for popping  
The lights are turned way down low  
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!"

She had another forty-five minutes of peace before Lugg and Leo finished eating half her kitchen, and gulping down wine. They'd cranked up the music a notch, and one of them, Leo she thought, was dancing around like an idiot. That's what it sounded like anyway. She drew back as one of them moved toward her, she could feel him near by, and smell the wine and cigarettes on his breath. She bet the bastard smoked Morleys. A scraping sounded alerted her before the heat did--Lugg had pulled out his lighter again.

He laughed as she whimpered through the gag when he brought the flame centimeters from her face.

"I think she likes it man."

"Oh yeah? Then I bet she'll love this." Scully heard Leo approach, but couldn't tell what he was doing until the familiar scraping sound let her know he had a lighter too.

The flame hit her foot, and Scully started to scream into the gag. He moved it after a few seconds and moved to the other foot. Scully screamed again as the heat bit her flesh. Her heart beating so hard it was like a steady vibration in her chest. Lugg was laughing, and Leo was snickering, and Scully was just praying to God that Mulder would get bored and decide to drop by. She swore, if he walked in the door, she'd press a furious kiss to his lips, and promise him that she'd follow him anywhere. If he'd just walk in her apartment door.

He did not. Instead, Lugg shifted his lighter to her forearms, while Leo released her shaking feet. Hell her whole body was shaking, from adrenaline or fear, she didn't know, probably both.

_"__Have yourself a merry little Christmas,  
Let your heart be light  
From now on,  
our troubles will be out of sight…"_

It was too light to do any damage, but the sharp chopping knife in her kitchen was enough to scare the hell out of her. At least when a half-drunken asshole was running it slowly along her neck. Scully was trying very hard not to jump, as it brushed over her skin. One sudden move, and he might accidentally kill her. She was sweating and shaking, and struggling to keep her roiling stomach from pushing bile up her throat. She'd choke to death with the gag in her mouth.

Her eyes widened as she felt the blade travel down toward her chest, and tug at her pajama top until the thread gave, and the button popped off. Scully screamed through the gag, her voice hoarse and all but gone now.

"Oh, now, now. We told you about the screaming already. Shush up."

Scully ignored him, and continued to scream as loud and forcefully as she could.

The blade slipped lower, buttons jumping off with the force of the blade, until her pajama top fell open, exposing and chilling her in the same moment.

"Now that's what I'm talking about." His throat issued a low sound of approval.

"What are you babbling about?" Leo returned from the bathroom. Moments ago, he'd very classily announced that the chocolate and alcohol was 'giving him the shits'.

"She's got nice tits."

Scully could hear Leo shuffling toward him, her heart pounding in time to his heavy steps on her carpet.

"Nice and perky," he agreed. "But, no."

"What?"

"We don't do that. You want to get laid, go find a hooker."

"But, I want _her_."

"Too damn bad. That shit is something I will not do. No woman deserves that."

The two men grew quiet, and Scully was left shivering from her exposure, and wondering who would prevail.

_"__Have yourself a merry little Christmas,  
Let your heart be light  
From now on,  
our troubles will be out of sight…"_

_

* * *

_

11:30p.m.

Lone Gunmen's Headquarters

"LeeLee!" A drunk Langly sang out to the tiny ball of fur gnawing on Mulder's toes.

"Ow! Ow!" He shouted, swatting at the kitten, but missing by a mile. "Christ Fro, what do you put in this?"

Frohike drained his glass of eggnog. "Too potent for the fearless special agent?"

Mulder shot him a look and chugged the two ounces left in his glass. This proved to be a bad idea, as he got up to head for the bathroom, and stepped on something that wiggled, screetched, and knocked him flat on his ass.

"LeeLee! Mulder, you could have killed her!" Langley glowered, and scooped up his pet, stroking down her puffed up fur.

"Told you he loved her."

"Remind me to bring Scully by to see her, she'll do that squealing thing women do."

"I can't imagine Agent Scully squealing." Byers commented, giving Mulder a hand off the floor, though none too steady himself.

"I can." Frohike offered with a suggestive smirk.

"Watch it, Frohike, those thoughts don't belong in your head," Mulder said.

"Oh, but they belong in yours?"

"I do not have impure thoughts about my partner."

"Yeah right." Langly rolled his eyes.

"I do not!" Mulder studied his three friends' looks of complete doubt, and sighed, utterly defeated. "Fine, I do, but they aren't pornographic, like Frohike's, more like...like erotica."

"How's that?" The aforementioned Gunman was already headed for more eggnog.

"There's an emotional component in my fantasies that's doubtlessly missing from yours."

"You think I don't care about her?"

Mulder hurried to clarify and ease the hurt on his friend's face. "No, I know you care about her, and I appreciate that, but you don't feel for her what I do." He paused. "And that, you can't argue with me on."

Frohike appeared about to do just that, but conceded with a simply nod.

"Great, now I've got to...to..." The slight wobble in his posture turned to a full-out lack of coordination.

"You okay, Mulder?" Byers once again offered a hand.

"Yeah, I've got to take a piss." He stumbled away, one hand on his forehead.

"For a fed, he really can't hold his liquor."

Langly and Byers nodded in agreement, before Byers spoke. "Did he just admit to being in love with Agent Scully?"

"Yep."

"You think he'll remember it the morning?" Langly wondered.

"Probably not."

"You think we will?"

The three friends and partners grinned at each other, each knowing they'd remember very little of the evening, but it was just as well. Frohike passed around refilled glasses, and the three clinked them together in celebration of another year uncovering conspiracies.

Their moment was marred only by the sounds of Mulder heaving up his share of the eggnog.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry for the delay on this chapter, the next one will be long, and hopefully posted sometime this coming weekend. Thanks for reading, and please review!_

_Oh, and I can't remember where Scully's mother lives, so if any one knows, please tell me so I can fix it. Thanks!  
_

_

* * *

_  
Midnight  
Georgetown

_"__And above all this bustle  
You'll hear  
Silver bells, silver bells  
It's Christmas time in the city…"_

Her limbs were numb, but her bladder had enough feeling to make up for it. Scully had to pee so bad it hurt. Leo and Lugg left what had to be about an hour ago, but didn't see fit to untie her first. They'd considered it, but then laughed at the idea of leaving her tied to the chair the whole night. Part of her wanted to empty her gun in them, while another part was just glad to have them gone.

They hadn't raped her.

The thought almost made her cry with relief. Lugg had instead settled for burning her with his cigarette. Her breasts and her abdomen were surely a polka-dotted with the painful perfectly circular welts. Why did they do it? What part of their minds was so broken that they could treat another human being as they had treated her? She'd have to ask Mulder when she finally got untied.

When she got untied. She wasn't sure how that was going to happen. Was she going to have to sit here all night until her mother realized she was missing tomorrow? A sob caught in her throat at the thought.

No. No, she wasn't going to do that. She wasn't going to wait to be rescued. She was an experienced FBI agent, she could figure out a way to get loose. Even blindfolded with both hands tied behind her back...to a chair. And ankles tied. And gagged.

Shit.

Alright, alright, think! She was in her living room, what was in her living room that she could use? That she could also get too?

Scully wasn't quite sure where exactly she was in her living room, but the Christmas music still cranking out of the stereo without mercy sounded like it was to her left. And, she had to be in front of the couch, but to the side of the coffee table, probably the right side. That put her a reasonable distance from her landline. Maybe if she could rock the chair enough, she'd fall toward the phone.

Scully thrust her body forward as much as she could, moaning as she put strain on her already abused wrists. She pushed back, and repeated her action, biting down on the gag in an effort to distract herself from the pain. Back and forth, she pushed her abused body until the chair gave an unhealthy teeter. Then she threw herself forward, the back legs of the chair rising off the ground, before she forced her body into the back of the chair. The back legs landed with a crack, the front legs going airborne. Scully slammed her back into the chair until it toppled over, barely missing the end table with the phone.

If she'd landed on hardwood, she'd probably have snapped both wrists; the carpet was kinder, but not by much. Scully screamed into her gag, and was soon struggling to catch her breath. Her weight rested on the chair back, which rested on her tied wrists and burnt forearms. She had accomplished nothing, except putting herself in more pain. And, startling herself into needing to pee even worse.

She pressed her thighs together in an effort to keep control of her bladder. It didn't help. After only a few minutes, it was ready to give, and wasn't about to be stopped. It started as a trickle, and then Scully just gave up, squeezing her eyes shut against the humiliation. It soaked her the back of her pajamas, bottom and top, and dripped over the sides of the chair to the rug, stinging her brunt forearms.

Scully finally let herself cry.

"Silent night! holy night!  
All is calm all is bright  
round yon virgin mother and child  
Holy infant so tender and mild  
sleep in heavenly peace…"

* * *

3:00 a.m.  
Georgetown

_"Run, run Rudolph, Santa's got to make it to town__  
__Santa make him hurry, he can take the freeway down__  
__Run, run Rudolph a whizzing like a merry-go-round…"_

Scully started at the sounds of a door shutting. Her muscles tensed painfully as she waited for heavy footsteps and the smell of lighter fluid. Neither came. Lugg and Leo had left hours ago, but every sound sent her sleep deprived and traumatized mind into overdrive, fearing her tormentors had returned. Fearing that this time, they wouldn't be merciful.

The smell of her own urine was making her sick, and her back and butt were so sore from hours of being in the same position, every little movement was agony. She wanted to get up and into a hot bath, to soothe her sore muscles, and raw, burnt skin. She wanted a tube of burn cream, some gauze, and a hot cup of tea. But, more than anything, she wanted to be wrapped in a blanket, on an old leather couch, while her partner babbled on in ten dollars words about the philosophic implications of whatever film was flickering on the TV in front of them.

She long ago stopped praying that he'd come by for ghost-hunting, or really anything. For whatever reason, this Christmas Eve, Mulder seemed to have found something non-x files related to occupy himself. For one irrational moment, her stomach twisted painfully at the thought that he'd found a girlfriend. She knew that wasn't the case. Not only because Mulder was as romantically challenge as she was, and even more so, socially inept, but because he didn't try. He might flirt, but these women were out of his head by the week's end. And, she knew why.

It was the same reason, she had stopped trying to date. Work was only partly responsible. The real reason was each other. Why bother dating when you've already found your 'one in five billion', as Mulder had once described her? In light of this, it shouldn't have surprised her that it was Mulder she wished for, but it still did. Just as it still often surprised her that was in the Bureau's designated 'rebel with a cause' that she found understanding, acceptance, and an almost frighteningly deep, sexless intimacy. Scully shook her head, letting it loll listlessly along the back of the chair.

She could drive herself crazy trying to figure out her relationship with Mulder, it was best not to dwell on it. They were what they were, nothing more or less than that.

Muffled voices in the hallway.

Her heart kicked into fourth gear, thundering beats pulsing through her body, as she jumped as much as her restraints would allow. She winced as the movement shifted, and changed pressure on her aching wrists. Scully moaned into her gag, and squeezed her eyes shut against a sudden dizziness striking her. She didn't think her wrists were fractured, but was betting on one hell of a sprain.

The voices passed, and quieted, gone into their apartment for what was left of the night. Her building, barring her own apartment, was usually pretty quiet, but it was Christmas Eve, and people were out celebrating, getting in late. They were laughing and talking, happy, drunk on Christmas spirit and spiked eggnog, and completely oblivious to their neighbor's nightmare Christmas.

And, the goddamned Christmas songs playing over and over again by whatever radio station the robbers had chosen were not helping her mood. The high-pitched glee of them was giving her a headache, though that was minor compared to every other ache in her abused body.

When would morning come?

_"How I miss that Old Fashioned Christmas!__  
__Memories that last through the years__  
__Call me sentimental; Don't mind if you do__  
__I wish an Old Fashioned Christmas to you!"_

* * *

Christmas  
8:00 a.m.  
Baltimore

"You hear from Dana, yet?" Bill Scully poured himself another cup of coffee, and watched his mother check on the breakfast casserole for the hundredth time.

"No, and I don't know what could be keeping her."

"Same as last year," he sighed. "That damn partner of hers."

"Yes, well she called last year, Bill. This isn't like her." Maggie folded the dish towel into very careful corners.

"You tried all her phones? Cell, home, work?"

"Yes, and all were met with answering machines. I think I'll call Fox if we don't hear from her soon."

"Don't call him."

Maggie shot her son a warning look.

"If she wants to miss the family Christmas to be with him, that's her problem. We have no reason to go looking for her."

"Oh? And, what if she's hurt? Or what if he's hurt, and she's at the hospital with him?" Hands on her hips, Maggie Scully was a formidable woman.

"Than it was probably doing something stupid. Stop worrying, Mom, and watch your grandkids open presents." He gestured toward her living room, where the rest of the family was gathered.

Maggie sighed, and rested the dishtowel on the counter, before following him into the living room. Her three grandchildren (and one on the way in Tara's sizable bump), were giggling and begging Charlie to let them open presents. The young man, who looked like his father had in his early thirties, was grinning widely as he teased his children and nephew. Tara and Maria were chatting on the couch, as they poured through a bag of tiny infant hand-me-downs.

"Please Dad! Please can we open presents!" Shana, his six year-old pleaded.

"I don't know, you have to ask, Grandma." He shot a grin at his mother, who returned it with a playful glare as the children ran to her.

"Grandma! Grandma! Can we please open presents!" The little girl begged, clinging to her.

Maggie pretended to consider it. "Oh alright, go ahead and start."

The children gave excited squeals before charging the Christmas tree. Maggie smiled at them. She'd wait a while longer, then she was calling Fox. It really wasn't like Dana, not on Christmas.

* * *

9:00  
Lone Gunmen's Headquarters

Something was tickling Mulder's nose.

He groaned and rubbed his sizeable schnozz, not bothering to open his eyes. The tickling was quick to start again. He repeated his earlier actions, to the same unsatisfying result. Twice. Before finally opening his eyes. To two large yellow eyes.

"Uh! Shit!" He yelped, rolling over, and toppling the creature perched on his chest. Lee screeched and ran toward Byers' groggy, shifting form.

Blinking and disoriented, Mulder studied his surroundings. The Gunmen's. The previous night flowed back to him, and with it, a pounding headache. He couldn't remember how much eggnog he'd consumed, but whatever it was, was an obscenely unhealthy quantity.

"Waz wrong Lee?" Byers mumbled barely coherently to the kitten.

"I almost squashed her. Don't tell Langly."

"What's going on?" Frohike popped up, way too close to Mulder for either of their comfort. Both men shifted back quickly, staring at each other, trying become human again.

"Noth--" He was cut-off by a phone ringing, somewhere in the vicinity near his head. Mulder searched through his coat, following the noise to his cell phone. Who the hell would be calling him on Christmas?

He saw Mrs. Scully's name on his caller ID, and after a moment of surprise, realized Scully was probably calling to check on him.

"Mulder." He answered.

"Merry Christmas Fox, it's Maggie Scully." Her voice wasn't jovial, and that worried him slightly.

"Merry Christmas Mrs. Scully. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was wondering, is Dana with you?" It was not a casual question, and warning bells started shrieking and clanging through Mulder's foggy brain.

"No, she's not with you? Don't you have roll call around the tree at six?"

"We do, and no, she isn't. I've tried her cell, apartment, the office, your apartment, and now your cell. I was hoping she'd be with you." Maggie no longer bothered masking her worry.

"I'll head to her apartment right now, Mrs. Scully. I'll call you when I get there."

"Thank you...I'm not interrupting your plans, am I?"

"No, not at all. I'll call you soon," he promised, and hung up.

"What's wrong?" Frohike asked, face serious and instantly sober.

"Scully didn't get to her mother's this morning, I'm going to her apartment to see if I can find her. Can you check the hospitals for her name? Or Jane Does matching her description. And uh, check the morgues too." Mulder looked to his feet, as he made the last request, and abruptly took off out the door, forgetting his jacket in his desperation.


	4. Chapter 4

9:30  
Georgetown

Her cell phone was ringing again.

Her mother had called her landline twice, and she was pretty sure her cell phone twice more. Mulder had frantically pleaded with her to pick-up her phone about two minutes ago, and she'd bet her next three paychecks that he was the reason her cell phone was ringing again. Her mother had called Mulder and reported her missing, and he'd jumped into action, as he always did when she was in trouble. Scully knew her partner would be at her apartment in minutes.

It was sad that their behavior during catastrophes had become so predictable. There had been too many of them in the last seven years.

In the meantime, her body was so sore, she'd stopped feeling it. There was still blood-flow to her hands and feet, even with the bindings, but the stress of being kept in one position for over 12 hours was too much. She'd even gotten used to the smell. When she got out of the chair, it was going to be very, very painful.

"Scully! Scully, are you in there!" Mulder's panicked voice called through her door.

She took a deep breath, and screamed through the gag, her dry throat burning with it.

She wasn't sure he heard it, but his key turning in the lock brought such a sense of relief, her eyes actually teared up. He burst in the door, and it seemed to take only seconds before he was rushing over to her.

"Scully?!" He sounded frightened. She jumped when his hands touched her leg. "Oh jesus..." He quickly righted the chair, sending her stomach reeling. Scully concentrated hard, and swallowed down the sensation.

Mulder pulled the blindfold off her eyes first, his hands trembling with fear and anger. Who did this to her? How long had she been tied up? Why hadn't he known she was in trouble? His breath caught at the sight of her open top, and the cigarette burns polka-doting her chest.

Scully blinked as her eyes grew accustomed to light again, and focused on Mulder's worried face as he removed the gag from her mouth. His actions were so gentle, so full of all the care and concern pouring out of his eyes, she almost broke down right there.

"Scully, who did this to you?" His fingers worked at the twine bindings on her wrists, pausing only briefly as he took in the burns on her forearms, before he simply gave up, and grabbed the pocketknife out of his jacket.

"Robbers," she coughed out, her voice scratchy and low.

"How long have you been tied up like this?" He removed the twine, and slowly brought one arm down, and around her back, stopping as she winced and whimpered before continuing on. He lay the still numb arm stiffly in her lap and repeated his actions with the other one.

Scully bit her lip, and suppressed further whimpers, but her body tensed up was enough for him to know it hurt. When he finished, she took a breath, and answered him. "Since I got home last night, quarter after five."

Whatever he thought of that was hidden from view, as he ducked his head to work on her ankle bindings. She heard his sharp intake of breath when he got close to her feet.

"Do you think you can walk?"

She nodded, and tried to get off the chair, but the stiffness of her body and the burns on her feet were too painful. She crashed back onto the chair from her two inches height, and now-gagless, couldn't control her stomach's reflex at the moment. Or warn Mulder, as he went to catch her when she pitched forward.

Scully heaved all over both of them and her living room carpet.

"You okay?" He asked as she struggled to breath again.

She nodded. "Sorry."

Mulder shook his head. No big deal. Moving slowly, he lifted her up into his arms and moved her to the couch, sitting beside her and supporting her with an arm her waist. He pulled out his phone, and dialed 911, reporting a crime against a federal agent and giving them his badge number. Then it was the Gunmen, and Skinner, who was less than pleased at first, but as soon as Mulder interrupted his tirade and explained what happened, he promised he was on his way. Then the call he didn't want to make. Mrs. Scully.

"Are you okay to talk to you mother?" He held the phone out at her, even though her hands and arms were still too numb to handle it.

Scully looked down, her mother would be upset and emotional, and she couldn't really deal with that now. But, it would be worse if she only her from Mulder. She looked at her partner and nodded.

Mulder swallowed nervously as the phone rang.

"Hello?" His shoulders slumped as he recognized Bill Scully's voice.

"Bill, it's Fox Mulder, could I speak to you mother, please?"

"Did you find Dana? Mom said she wasn't with you."

"She wasn't. I found her though, and she's with me now, I think your mother would appreciate hearing her voice."

"What happened? Why didn't she show up today?"

Mulder sighed, and shook his head. "Some people broke into her apartment, she was restrained and couldn't get to a phone for help."

"What! Is she okay?" He barely took a breath. "I'm heading over there now."

Scully, hearing this, shook her head, her eyes wide. She could not handle seeing him now, not when he'd be huffing and puffing in unchecked fury.

"It's better if you don't. We'll be here hours waiting for the EMTs and cops to finish. I'll bring her over to your mother's when it's all done."

"I don't think so, I'm coming over, _I'll_ bring her back here."

Mulder sighed, and looked at Scully. She was still wearing that almost pleading look. "Look Bill, she's in bad shape, and doesn't want to see anyone now."

"I want to talk to her, now."

Mulder resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and held the phone to Scully's ear.

"Bill?" She asked, her voice shaky and rough.

"Dana? Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'll be over later."

All argument seemed to leave him, as he said. "I'll get mom."

She heard muffled voices, and closed her eyes to let the sensation of Mulder's fingers gently drifting over her back wash over her and sooth her. As worried and upset as he was, as long as he could see her, he would be calm, because she needed him to be. She knew he probably wanted to punch a wall, but as long as she was nearby, his anger at her attackers took a backseat.

"Dana?"

"Hi mom."

"Oh, thank god. Are you alright, Bill said people broke into your apartment--"

"I'm fine. I'll be over this afternoon."

After a few more exchanges, Scully finally said goodbye and nodded to Mulder, just as sirens arrived outside with an ear-splitting pitch. He felt her tremble beside him, before straightening her spine, and adopting her superwoman persona. Covered in burns, urine and vomit, she was still Scully, and couldn't show weakness. At least, not to anyone but him, and even that was rare.

"Freeze!" Two DCPD officers in their patrol blues, burst into the apartment (thankfully opening the door, rather than breaking it down), and directed their 38s on Mulder and Scully.

"We're FBI. It's her apartment, she's the victim." Mulder was not surprised. "I'm going to reach for my badge. Did you boys bring paramedics?"

"They're outside getting their equipment," one officer answered, flicking on the living room light, which Mulder hadn't bothered with. He squinted at Mulder's ID, and than nodded, both cops lowering their guns. "We were called out on a B&E?"

"Can we wait for detectives, so she only has to say it once?"

The officers didn't argue. Not with Bureau agents.

The room became a whirlwind of activity in minutes. The EMTs arrived, and immediately began examining Scully, careful not to jostle her barely closed top, and so preserve her modesty. Once they determined that nothing was life threatening, they put an IV in her arm to rehydrate her, and moved so the forensics specialists could examine her for evidence.

Mulder made an attempt to get up when Skinner arrived, but Scully grabbed his hand before he made it off the couch. He shot their boss a meaningful look instead, with a head nod to Scully, and the older man seemed to comprehend it easily. He moved instead to the EMTs, and questioned them about her injuries.

After CSU finished with her, two detectives joined them, but not before a fairly heated discussion with Skinner. Loud enough for the room to hear. He wanted the Bureau to handle the crime against one of their own, even if B&E and assault were DCPD jurisdiction. A Bureau agent as the victim made it Bureau jurisdiction, if they chose to claim it. The two rather patient detectives pointed out that prosecution would be easier if the investigation and evidence was handled by cops without a relationship to the victim. The AD had reluctantly agreed.

After two hours of telling the detectives every little detail, and them dissecting each of those details, they finally declared that they were done. Skinner was somehow the last one to get to them, and when he did, his eyes were full of sympathy. Scully could only imagine what she looked like right then, let alone smelled like.

"I'm so sorry, Agent Scully. This should not be how you're spending your Christmas."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're on leave through the New Year holiday. If you need more time, you let me know, alright?"

"Oh sir, that isn't really necessary." Scully got through difficult times by working, the last thing she wanted was time to sit around and stew.

"Well, you take whatever you need then, but I'm going to insist that you take at least Monday."

"Yes, thank you sir. I appreciate that."

He nodded to her, and looked at Mulder, shooting him a look before also nodding, and making his exit. Mulder couldn't be positive, but he was pretty sure it was a, 'take care of her' look. Not that he needed it. He intended to be glued to her side until she told him to get lost.

Finally, it was over and they were free to leave the apartment. Scully was still stiff and sore, her feet aching from the burns, but she insisted on walking out of her apartment. Though she did lean on Mulder heavily, while he valiantly resisted the urge to pick her up and carry her.

* * *

2:00p.m.  
Alexandria

Scully stepped out of the bathroom, running fingers through her still wet hair, and wearing a blue top and black slacks. She no longer smelled, and wasn't nearly as sore as she had been. The hot shower had loosened her muscles, and soothed her aches. Her sleeves were rolled up, and in one hand she held a wad of sterile gauze, in the other the burn cream the EMTs gave her. She'd already wrapped up her feet (which hurt like hell to stand on), and covered would she could of the burns on her chest, but she'd need help to do her forearms. She didn't go to the hospital, so had no painkillers. Aspirin would have to do.

She followed a noisy clang to the kitchen, arriving just in time to hear Mulder curse loudly, and promptly shove his thumb in his mouth. He wasn't wearing a shirt, having removed the one she threw up on with the intention of eventually getting into the shower. There was still a little puke on his jeans.

"That's unsanitary. Use cold water." She quickly took a seat to get her feet off the floor.

Mulder jumped and turned around, before heading to the sink and doing as instructed. "You feel a little better?"

"Muscles and joints are better, but the burns still hurt."

Mulder nodded, as he presented her with the bowl of soup responsible for his little injury, and sat beside her. He noted the cream and gauze in her hands, and held his hands out in an invitation of assistance.

"I spoke to your mother. She pushed Christmas dinner back to six, and says she can push it to seven if necessary. So, I figure you eat something now, take a nap, and then I'll take you over when you're ready. Okay?" He finished her right arm, and took her hand gently in his, looking into her eyes.

She nodded. "Does she still sound worried?"

"Not as much. She'll be fine as soon as she hugs you." He glanced up from his wrapping to smile at her. "I understand the feeling."

"I have no presents to give anyone."

"I think they'll understand, Scully."

"What about my niece and nephews?"

He tucked the end of the gauze in, and looked at her. "So, tell them you decided they deserved an extra long Christmas, so you're going to mail their presents to them instead. That would have worked when me when I was a kid."

She quirked an eyebrow, and offered him a small smile.

"You're all done here." He laid her arm gently into her lap.

"Thank you," she said, her voice heavy and barely loud enough to hear. She leaned toward him, and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him to herself.

Mulder reciprocated happily, holding her tightly, a little sigh emanating from his body, as his nerve-endings finally quieted their 'Scully's in trouble' screams. She was safe.

He was surprised when she didn't pull away after a couple minutes, but continued to almost cling to him. Hot tears on his skin were followed by her burying her face in his neck, and her body jumping with silent sobs. He shifted closer to her, and moved his hand to her head, brushing it over her hair. Mulder was reminded of eight months ago, when an obsessed writer tried to kill her, and he wondered how much more she could take. Or he could, for that matter.

To Scully, It felt like she cried for an hour. But, Mulder made no attempt to move or shush her, just held her as tightly as she did him. There was something enormously comforting about being pressed against his bare skin, and she was loath to leave it. When her tears finally dried up, and she brought her face away from his skin, his hazel eyes held a tenderness that made it difficult for her to swallow. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and leaned back, one hand still holding hers.

"I'm going to grab a shower. There's more soup in the pot if you want it, and the sheets on the bed are clean." He'd taken care of that while she was showering.

"Thanks."

He nodded, and retreated to the shower, leaving Scully alone for the first time since he'd burst into her apartment and rushed to her side. A knot formed and gnawed at her gut until she admonished herself for her weakness, and remembered that she hadn't eaten in 24 hours. Her stomach ached with an entirely different feeling.

--

Mulder came out of the bathroom to find his partner already asleep in his bed. He stood watching her for several minutes; she was curled on her side, her face completely relaxed and peaceful. Not the face of a woman who'd spend the night tied to a chair and terrorized by two bastards who better never cross his path.

He stumbled tiredly out to his couch, and fell into it with a sigh. He leaned forward, his head in his hands, his body trembling as the adrenaline he'd been running on finally evaporated. He came so close to losing her. They could have killed her at any moment last night; they had ample opportunity and a completely defenseless victim. And then, it would have been her body he found this morning.

How could he not have known that Scully needed him? He should have felt it, should have sensed that she was in danger. He knew that it was irrational. He wasn't psychic. But, his connection with Scully was the deepest he'd ever experienced with another human being, and the less rational side of him (the side that drove her crazy), couldn't believe he wouldn't feel it. He supposed he could blame the alcohol; along with his motor skills, speech center, and logic area, it also dulled his Scully sensors?

Would he have felt it if they killed her?

The very thought sent a wave of nausea washing over him. One, two, three deep breaths, he coached himself. Don't throw-up. After several rounds of deep breaths, and forcing himself to visualize the little kitten that had greeted him earlier that morning, he managed to calm his stomach. Leaning back on the couch, and breathing into his hands, Mulder remembered that he owed the Gunmen an update, especially Frohike.

"Lone Gunmen, Merry Christmas," Byers answered without his usual cheer. He sounded exhausted and hung-over.

"Turn the tape off."

"Done. How's Agent Scully?"

"Alright. She's sleeping now." He knew Byers, unlike Langly, would turn the tape off the first time. He sighed. "They burnt her with lighters and cigarettes and left her tied to a chair all night."

"You don't think they're related to your work, do you?"

"No, I think the bastards looked for a woman who lived alone, and appeared easy to manhandle. Scully just got massively unlucky."

"But, she's okay? Frohike has been pacing and swearing vengeance for hours."

"Tell Frohike, that while Scully will appreciate that he cares, she won't look kindly on him getting his ass arrested for murder. And yes, she's shaken up and sore, but Scully's a survivor, always has been." Mulder was tremendously thankful for that.

"We've hacked into the DCPD, and are keeping an eye on the investigation. So far, only some basic information has been put into the system. But, it's Christmas, so we expect to see more tomorrow."

"Thanks Byers. Keep me updated."

The two men exchanged goodbyes and Christmas well wishes, before Mulder hung up the phone with a heavy sigh. He knew they'd see the detailed reports tomorrow with Scully's statement, and he'd get a hysterical phone call from Frohike, declaring war on the little shits who'd hurt her. Mulder could sympathize; he was having some brutal fantasies involving a baseball bat. He had a maple slugger that he wouldn't mind getting a little blood on. Or a lot.

Hell hath no fury.

* * *

_The next part should be up some time toward the end of the week, and I'm estimating only one or two more chapters. Thanks for reading, and the reviews! Happy New Year!_


	5. Chapter 5

5:00 p.m.

Baltimore

They pulled up outside her mother's house right on time, but she was groggy from her nap, and exhausted from the night. Part of her just wanted to go back to Mulder's apartment and sleep until tomorrow night, while the other part still couldn't bear the thought of missing Christmas with her family.

The car was still running. She turned to Mulder. "You're coming in with me."

His eyebrows rose in question. "Uh, well your brother doesn't really--"

"Please?"

She watched all objection disappear from his face with that one little word, just before he nodded somewhat reluctantly. She knew family gathering weren't his thing, especially when one of the family members hated him, but she wasn't quite ready to see him go. She was still on edge (to say the least), and needed him to anchor her when her family felt overwhelming. Or, as she expected with her mother, smothering.

"You ready?" Mulder was crouched outside her door, looking up expectantly. She hadn't even realized that he'd turned off the car.

Scully nodded, and took his offered hand, climbing out of the car, wincing as her feet hit the pavement, putting pressure on the burns. She bit her lip and squeezed his hand as they walked up the pathway to her mother's house. Every step was stabbing pain in her feet.

"I'd offer to carry you, but I know you wouldn't go for that."

"You're right, I wouldn't." She offered him a strained smile, as he rang the doorbell.

"Dana, I was so worried!" The door opened and her mother swept her up into a hug in seconds.

"I'm fine, Mom."

"Goodness, what happened to your arms?" She released Scully, and studied the gauze sticking out of her sweater.

"It's nothing, just some burns." Scully quickly pulled her arms away, still grimacing at the pain in her feet.

"Dana, what's wrong? You look like you're in pain."

"Um..."

Seeing her hesitation, Mulder offered explanation. "There's some burns on her feet as well, she probably shouldn't be on them."

"What? What did they do to you?"

Scully was again at a loss as to how to answer, and not upset her mother further. Mulder jumped in to save her again.

"It's really best you don't know the details, Mrs. Scully. Just know that Dana's alright."

She looked back and forth between them, before nodding, and grabbing Mulder in a hug. "Thank you, Fox. I knew you'd find her for me."

Scully was amused to see her partner's eyes widen and bug-out in surprise, reminiscent of old cartoons, where if her mother squeezed him any harder, his eyeballs would pop-out and fly across the room.

"Always, Mrs. Scully," he choked out, before gently disengaging himself. But he was smiling. Scully realized that he probably received more affection from her mother than he did his own.

She took his hand again, as they walked with her mother into the living room, and Mulder not-so-subtly directed her to the first available chair, and gently pushed her into it. She might have argued if her feet didn't feel like they were on fire. Her family soon swarmed her with hugs and kisses, and, 'oh my god, are you alrights', and Scully was truly very happy to see her brothers. She felt Mulder start to pull away after a few minutes, and gripped his handed tighter until he got the clue.

"Charlie," she said, "you haven't met Mulder yet."

Her brother, who had the darker features of their mother, smiled and extended a hand to Mulder. "You have no idea how happy I am to finally meet you."

Scully could feel nervous energy coming off her partner in waves, but doubted anybody else noticed as he turned on that charm that probably could have won him the White House in another life. Though, apparently not Bill.

"Oh, I'll bet I do. If not for the pictures, I'd have thought you were a hallucination." He smiled and shook hands.

"The price of being a Marine, never home for anything." Charlie shrugged.

"Well, dinner is ready, and I'm sure everyone's hungry, why don't we move this into the dining room?" Maggie waved everyone toward the dining room.

Scully sometimes wondered if something occurred in the short time between gestation and birth that made mothers need to constantly be feeding someone. Or maybe it was from catering to the every-two-hours feedings of newborns that did it.

--

Mrs. Scully's table was set-up beautifully, with china and silver (except for the kids, who had plastic), and platters and bowls over-flowing with food. Bill came out of the kitchen with a platter of sliced ham, having fulfilled his duty of carving, as the oldest male in the house. Mulder busied himself looking at anything except Bill, hoping not to draw the man's attention. He patiently catered to his partner's stubbornness, holding dishes for her, as she served herself and winced with every movement of her wrist. A small soupful of soup was easy to manage, a giant server of cheddar-mashed potatoes was not.

Most of the dinner was dedicated to snippets of small talk while they shoveled food into their faces. The new baby, Charlie's next assignment, Bill's attempts at a more family-friendly posting, and Maggie's bits of gossip from church were among the topics. Mulder was grateful no one had mentioned Scully's ordeal, their work, or anything else remotely related. The only snag came as Scully struggled to cut her ham.

She was in visible pain, at least to him, and he wanted nothing more than to yank the knife and fork from her hands, and do it for her. It took every bit of restraint he possessed to not do exactly that, he couldn't stand the agony written on her face. But, he knew her pride wouldn't let her ask for help, or even accepted offers of it. So instead, Mulder watched and suffered with her, relieved when she was finally finished.

If only things had continued going so well once the festivities moved into the living room. Scully apologized profusely to her niece and nephews for coming empty-handed, and used the lie Mulder suggested, much to their joy. The three kids eagerly rushed back to the tree, and grabbed the remaining presents for Aunt Dana, pushing and shoving to be first to her. Mulder watched with amusement, keeping close to her as she seemed to need.

"So Mulder, I've got to know if some of the stuff Dana's told me about your cases is actually true." Charlie leaned forward on the couch, looking almost as enthusiastic as his kids.

"It is," Scully called, not moving her eyes from the child in front of her. There was humor in her tone, but even talking to her niece and nephews, her back was rigid with nervous tension.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Okay, the guy that could make himself look like anyone, his father was in the circus, I think?"

"Eddie VanBlundt. Yes, true, he made himself look like Luke Skywalker, four women's husbands, his own dead father, and me. Fooled Scully, uh Dana, and that's not easy." He left out the part where Scully downed a bottle of wine, and nearly played tonsil hockey with the man.

"Luke Skywalker? I was sure Dana was embellishing with that."

Mulder chuckled. "I have never known your sister to exaggerate anything."

"Me neither, but Star Wars, really?"

Mulder shrugged, relieved that Charlie wasn't as difficult as Bill.

"Well, what about the fake vampire-kid that was drugging people in Texas, did you really sing the theme song to Shaft while you were drugged?" There was a sparkle of glee in the man's brown eyes that said he loved to screw with people, and Mulder got the feeling that he was a terror as a child.

"I can't say one way or another. Sc-Dana insists I did, but I have no memory of it. Our accounting of events didn't exactly jive on that case."

"You were loaded, Mulder; that's why you don't remember it, and my accounting was accurate." His partner shot back at him.

"Oh, so you just forgot the part where you were making eyes at Sheriff Hartwell, the great buck-toothed wonder?"

"I was not _making eyes_ at him, and he didn't have buck-teeth," she insisted, finally turning toward him, shooting him that look he loved.

"He did, and by the way, I still stand by my original assessment, they were _real _vampires." He insisted, grinning. She was relaxing, and that made him embarrassingly happy.

"Mulder, he was wearing fake fangs! What kind of vampire wears fake fangs?"

"You met a vampire, Aunt Dana?" A little voice stopped their debate in it's tracks, and reminded them that they were not alone.

Scully turned back to her niece. "No, Shana. He wasn't a real vampire."

Mulder held up his hands at the pointed look she shot him, and kept his mouth shut. He watched Scully struggle to explain to her nephews and niece that there was no such thing as vampires, and reassure them that they were safe. He felt a little guilty for getting carried away.

"So my big sister really hunts monsters..." Charlie seemed to consider that idea.

"Surprised?" He was so used to Bill, he half expected a verbal lashing by Charlie.

Charlie shook his head. "Nah, who do you think checked under the bed for monsters when I was little?"

Mulder had to chuckle at the image of a young Scully, hands on her hips, glancing under the bed, and then explaining no-nonsense to a young Charlie that there was no such thing as monsters. He was so involved in the thought, he didn't see Bill shaking his head, a look of pure distain on his face.

"What about the times she was in quarantine, or some psycho broke into her apartment, or she disappeared for 3 months, or was nearly burned to death on the top of some damn mountain, or one of the times Mom got a call from whatever hospital saying her daughter was recently admitted and so far it's touch and go. No exaggerations there either, huh?" Bill might as well have been growling.

"No Bill, no exaggerations," Mulder answered quietly.

"Bill," Scully warned, her voice soft and tired.

"No Dana, he should hear it. I don't want him to forget." His narrowed eyes never left Mulder's face.

"I have an eidetic memory, I don't forget anything, especially where Dana is concerned."

"Then why don't you stop?"

"Bill, enough." This came from the elder Scully woman, her eyes burning into her son's.

This is why Mulder avoided Scully holidays, he made things difficult for them. Darkness clouding his eyes, Bill pried himself off the wall he'd been holding up, and marched off to the kitchen. Mulder let his head hang. This had been a bad idea, he hadn't wanted to upset anyone, he just wanted to be there for Scully.

A soft hand moved over his, offering a little squeeze. Mulder looked up at Scully, a look on her face that didn't require much translation: _Ignore him, I want you here_. He nodded, and plastered on a smile they both knew was fake.

--

It wasn't a bad fight, as far as fights go, but the hostility carried through the evening. Both men were silent during coffee and dessert, only speaking when they'd been addressed. Bill was still looking pissed, and Mulder was trying his best to hide in plain sight. Things became even more unpleasant when Mulder found himself in the living room, both Scully brothers watching him with interest.

Tara, Maria and Maggie were corralling the kids to their termporary bedroom, while Scully had fallen asleep with her head on Mulder's shoulder, and her hand grasping his. Normally, he wouldn't mind this, but not when Bill was trying to fillet him with his eyes.

He and Scully were on the loveseat, and her brothers were on the couch. Charlie was reclined into the sofa, looking completely relaxed, and even a little amused. Bill was as tense as a fully wound Timex, his hands clenched in fists. Clearly, he wasn't happy that his baby sister was so cozy with her partner.

Charlie suddenly leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Mulder, I know my sister likes to think she's Wonderwoman, but tell me honestly, is she okay?"

Mulder stared at the other man, unsure if he should tell the truth or respect Scully's privacy. He sighed. "Uh, she's shaken up, probably will be for a while, but she's been through worse."

Charlie nodded, and bit his lip. "And physically...they didn't, uh...did they?"

Mulder didn't have to ask what he meant, it had been one of his biggest fears as well.

"No, they didn't do that." He watched the youngest Scully child practically deflate in relief, and felt a little bad to have to burst his bubble. "They tormented her with lighters and scared the hell out of her."

"And, which of your cases is this related to?" Bill crossed his thick arms over his chest.

"None. She was just very unlucky." Mulder watched the brothers watching their sister, Charlie's eyes full of compassion, while Bill's still carried a layer of anger over the same compassion.

"Why did they choose Dana?" he asked.

"They probably spent time in the neighborhood, knew she lived alone, and when they went looking for a victim tonight, saw her walking into her building with arms full of bags."

"You think she knows them?" Charlie was instantly alarmed.

"No. They didn't know she was an FBI agent. Scul--uh, Dana probably never noticed them around, but they noticed her." This was good. Criminology he knew, he could talk about that without pissing off Bill, or shoving his foot in his mouth.

The three men went silent, contemplating the sleeping woman before them, and her position in their lives. Mulder was starting to relax again, almost accepting that he could escape the uncomfortable situation without an inquisition. Then he felt Bill looking at him, or rather trying to melt a hole through his head with a stare. Mulder turned his attention to the man.

"So, you want to tell me, just what the hell is going on between you and Dana?"

Mulder's mouth opened, and he suddenly couldn't think of a damn thing to say.

* * *

_Sorry for the delay! The last chapter should be up Saturday. Thanks for reading and reviewing!_


	6. Chapter 6

Christmas  
8:30  
Baltimore

_"So, you want to tell me, just what the hell is going on between you and Dana?"_

_Mulder's mouth opened, and he suddenly couldn't think of a damn thing to say._

"No, he doesn't. It's none of your business." A sleepy rasp startled them all, and drove their attention to Scully, who was slowly pulling her head up from where it had slid on Mulder's chest.

He was more than a little relieved.

"So there is something, then?"

Scully ignored Bill, and looked at Mulder. "What happened to everyone else, and how long have they been interrogating you?"

"Aw, come on Dana, we weren't interrogating. It was just conversation." Charlie grinned deviously.

"They're up putting the kids to bed, and don't worry, the interrogation part just started."

"Then I have perfect timing," she said.

"Yes, you do." Mulder smiled at her. "It's late, Scully, and you're tired. Why don't you call it a night, and get some rest?"

Scully would have liked to argue that she was fine, but was so tired, even with her little catnap, that she didn't feel like fighting him. She nodded instead, turning toward the stairs. "Let me just find my mother to say goodbye."

"You're not going back to your apartment, are you?" BIll immediately demanded.

Scully turned around to see three surprised men looking at her, though why Mulder should be so surprised was beyond her. "No, I'm not. I'll stay at Mulder's."

"Why? Mom can squeeze you in here somewhere." Bill was being thick.

"Because Bill, that's where I want to go."

"You can't stay there, you should be here."

Scully's jaw tensed, and she felt Mulder's calloused fingers running circles over her palm, trying to soothe her. He knew her moods as intimately as if he were her lover. "Bill, I'm an adult, and will make my own decisions about where I should be."

He didn't respond, seeming to realize that he wasn't going to win this one, no matter what he said or did. Instead he sat, wearing the angry grown man's version of a pout, much to her amusement. Bill had never been easy to deal with when he didn't get his way, but she'd have thought the military would have worked that out of him.

Her mother was easier to deal with, though disappointed she wouldn't have her daughter overnight. But, Scully promised to return the next day for lunch, before they took the boys and their families to the airport. She was relieved to walk out the door, and slide into the car next to Mulder. It wasn't that she didn't want to spend time with her family, she loved them; she was just too damn tired to keep it up.

Scully was finally too tired to keep being strong, to pretend what happened wasn't as terrifying, painful, and traumatizing as it was. She'd been through worse, sure, but it didn't make this any easier. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to be able to break, and to cry. Not struggle to put on a smile and be Dana. Right now being Scully took less energy. As Scully, she had the option to be weak.

It wasn't an option she took all that often, as Mulder could testify, but it was still an option. She'd already taken that option once with him today, and she had a feeling she'd be taking it again. It was easy with Mulder, because he knew exactly how to react. Don't dwell on it, don't make her feel weak, just hold her until she's had enough. He'd tell her that it was okay to breakdown, that she didn't have to be strong all the time--and, when she felt like she was falling to pieces, that was exactly what she needed to hear.

Scully didn't realize she'd fallen asleep in the car until she felt arms shifting around her. There wasn't much time for her to think, before she noted that her but was no longer touching the seat. For a moment she panicked, thinking they were still moving, until she heard the car door shut, and realized it was parked. Then her mind adjusted enough that she realized she was actually moving, or rather Mulder was moving, walking toward his building carrying her.

"Mulder, what are you doing?"

He looked down at her. "Trying not to wake you."

"You can put me down."

"You're tired and you're feet are still covered in burns, Scully. Just lay back and enjoy the ride." He smiled.

"It's fine, I can walk." She insisted, wiggling. She hated being carried, it made her feel weak and vulnerable.

He sighed loudly, and stopped. "I had to sit through dinner while you were in obvious pain using your wrists, do me a favor and don't make me watch you walk too."

Her turn to sigh. But, she didn't argue. Scully stopped wiggling, and let him carry her inside. It felt strange to let Mulder carry her into his apartment, like a gesture too romantic for their relationship. It was over pretty quickly, much to her relief. He set her on his sofa, and then didn't seem to know what to do with her. Normally, they'd start arguing over what kind of pizza to get, and who gets to pick the movie.

They'd already eaten, and she wasn't there for a social call. Not really.

"Do you mind if I take a bath?" She wanted to clean her burns, and relax her still sore muscles.

"Course not. I think I have some of those Epsom salts the EMTs mentioned under the sink, though I can't accurately pinpoint their age."

"I'll take my chances." She said, before rising off the couch, and walking with delicate winces toward his bathroom, glad to be away from a surprisingly awkward situation.

"Hey Scully," he called to her.

She turned around to face him, eyes questioning.

"Let me know if you want some company." He shot her that suggestive grin he was so talented at.

"I'll be sure to do that." She rolled her eyes, smiling and finished her walk to the bathroom.

* * *

Scully didn't require company at any point during her bath, though under other circumstances (and with a little more courage), she might have taken him up on his offer. Her overnight bag was still in the bathroom, so she was able to change into pajamas right there, and avoid any potentially embarrassing encounters of walking to the bedroom in just a towel. Not that she doubted that Mulder would be the perfect gentleman.

She walked carefully, wincing with the pressure on her feet, to Mulder's sofa. Once again she presented him with burn cream and fresh gauze, and offered her wrists to his gentle yet efficient hands.

"What are you watching?" She looked to the TV screen, and didn't recognize the movie playing.

"Uh, _Galaxy Quest_."

"Don't know if I saw it."

"It takes a fictional version of _Star Trek_, and puts the actors who play the characters in a real space environment, where they have to help save a race of aliens who are big fans of the show. Except the aliens think the show is real, and the actors are their characters."

"Sounds interesting, and right up your alley."

"Are you saying I'm a nerd, Scully?" His tone was annoyed, but there was a teasing smile in playing his eyes.

She shook her head with exaggeration. "Oh no, of course not."

"Actually, it's interesting to consider. This film takes a position few others in popular media have, and poses some very important philosophical questions."

Scully didn't comment, but let her raised eyebrows doing the talking.

"Think about it, Scully. This film posits that our first contact with extraterrestrial life won't be with a race stronger than our own, and hellbent on destroying us, but a weaker, decidedly benevolent race seeking our assistance. Then the question becomes, would we help them? Could we really bury our prejudice and media-bred paranoia to help this race survive, or would we allow them to be destroyed to secure our own safety?" He babbled, gesturing with the remote as he spoke.

"Well, you're basing all your conjecture on the assumption that the first race we encounter would actually be humanoid. All the reliable scientific evidence suggests that the odds of another humanoid race existing are microscopic. It's more likely that any extraterrestrial life we could find would look nothing like what we know. I've even read studies that hypothesize alien life more likely to be water-based." Scully responded.

"Ah, and you assert another important point--would we be less likely to assist them, if they didn't look like us? If for instance, a squid-like race were to come to this planet and ask us to save them, would we see past their un-attractive and fish-like faces, and agree? Or would we instead host the first-ever global calamari festival? Would we be awed that they exist, or revolted at their fish features?"

He watched his partner, who stared back with obvious skepticism. Rather than argue outright, she said simply, "Global calamari festival, Mulder?"

"You're a sailor's daughter, you must have eaten calamari before."

"Sure, I love calamari. But, I can't imagine slaughtering a whole race of squid-people for it."

Mulder chuckled. "You just defended 'squid-people', Scully."

She smiled. "Well, we found a flukeman, why not squid-people?"

"You know, if Ewoks invaded, we'd probably let them live. They've got that whole cute, furry thing going for them."

"True."

"Hey Scully?"

"Yes?" She asked, meeting his intense, though steady gaze.

"Merry Christmas. I'm sorry it didn't turn out better." He gave her hand a little squeeze.

She squeezed back. "It's not so bad, Mulder. Merry Christmas to you too."

"Maybe next year, we should lock ourselves in nuclear fall-out shelter from December 24th through 26th, avoid the holiday altogether," he sighed. Christmas had not be a pleasant time of year for Scully in the time he'd known her.

"Careful, I might take you up on that."

"But then, you'd miss Christmas with your family."

"Yeah, but I'd still have you." She watched him cock his head to the side, as if saying, 'yeah, but that's not much.' "Mulder, have you ever since the Grinch?"

"Animated or Jim Carey?"

"Animated, the good one."

"Of course, Scully. I think everyone has seen that."

"Well, you remember how even after all the Whos in Whoville woke up to find their decorations, food, presents, and trees missing, they still celebrated?"

"Sure, they sang around a tree right?"

"They did. Because, Christmas isn't about those things. It isn't the tree glowing with white lights, or the boxes underneath, or snowflakes and cinnamon sticks that make Christmas, Christmas. It isn't even necessarily about Jesus and church. It's where you go and who you see, it's a reminder that these are the people that make you who you are, the people who you love, and you're happy just to be with them." She was staring blankly at the TV screen now, eyes completely unfocused.

"I went to see the Gunmen, what does that say?" He looked mildly disturbed as he spoke. Scully looked at him, and laughed.

Mulder smiled then, happy to hear her laugh. Scully felt them lock into each other's gaze, like they often did, and was reminded of a promise she made to herself earlier. She'd almost forgotten about it. Head cocked to the side, she debated for a few seconds, before a little smile appeared on her lips. Mulder was watching her was apt interest. She leaned forward then, dangerously into his personal space, and took his face in her hands, staring into his beautiful hazel eyes. Scully pressed her lips softly to his, barely brushing at first, until she felt him respond, and applied more pressure. His lips were soft, and his plump bottom lip wonderfully tantalizing. Scully heard his breath hitch, and satisfied, released him, leaning back into her seat.

Mulder's eyes were closed, and he appeared to be barely breathing. Scully wondered for a moment if she'd misread their entire relationship, her pulse quickening with a hint of panic.

"Best Christmas present ever." He finally opened his eyes, and regarded her with a smile.

She sighed in relief, and looked down at her lap, hoping she wasn't blushing. Mulder read her as quick as ever, and cleared his throat, turning back to the television. Within minutes he was babbling again about philosophy and aliens. They weren't going to address it, not tonight, but it meant something, something very special to both of them.

Scully wrapped herself in the blanket on the back of the sofa, and let Mulder's soft voice lull her to sleep, her head once again resting on his shoulder.

* * *

_Okay, so I think this might be the first fic I had them kiss in, and I think it actually went okay. I have difficulty writing them being intimate (kissing and beyond at least), since we saw so little of it on the show, and that makes it hard to find a moment that feels right for them. So, let me know how I did on this, and the story as a whole, feedback makes me a better writer, and a very happy one at that. All reviews thus far, are very. very appreciated. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
